


Love You (Goodbye)

by babylxxrry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: A LOT of Angst, A little, Anal Sex, Angst, Anyways, Bittersweet Ending, Bottom Harry, Goodbyes, I have no idea how to tag, It's angst, Louis Tomlinson Calls Harry Styles Pet Names, M/M, Miscommunication, So much angst, That's like it, all the fucking angst, goddamn why are the tags so long, i guess?, i really should add that there's a fuckton of, it's in 4 so if you wanna skip it's really easy to tell when it starts, not the angst, okay i forgot the most important tag, right right Nosh is mentioned but it's tiny so, somewhat happy ending, that's the best tag ever, the angst is just like throughout, the smut i mean, there is fluff though, there's one smut scene, this is great, yorkshire tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 16:34:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6712669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babylxxrry/pseuds/babylxxrry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>an angsty 5+1 where harry and louis try to do goodbye all over again, but this time right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love You (Goodbye)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [necessityforapologies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/necessityforapologies/gifts).



> okay so this is the longest thing I've ever finished, and probably will remain so for a while.  
> ANYWAYS I really hope I didn't take this way out of what you were hoping for... in any case, I'll talk more at the end.
> 
> Enjoy! (or not huehuehue)

>>>>> 1

The first time Harry drops a box of Yorkshire tea into the shopping cart after Louis left, it’s automatic and he doesn’t notice it until he’s at the checkout counter. He stares at it as the checkout girl bags it and hands him his change. He thanks her absently and grabs his bags to head back to ~~their~~ _his_ flat.

<< 

_Harry is sitting at the table when Louis slouches through the front door, suit rumpled and quiff wilted and bedraggled._

_“Lou, babe, can we talk about something?” Harry ventures, cautious of Louis’ ever-changing moods._

_“Yeah, kitten, give me a mo. I’m just gonna make a cuppa. Want one?” Louis answers distractedly. He sounds exhausted._

_“No thanks.” Harry fidgets in his chair as he waits for Louis to finish preparing his tea._

_“Hazza, next time you run out to Tesco’s, could you grab another box?” Louis’ indicating the box of Yorkshire, which has only one bag left in it._

_“Sure, babe.”_

_When Louis’ finally done and slides into the seat opposite Harry’s, Harry takes a deep breath before letting it out in a whoosh._

_“So, what’s up, kitten?”_

_“Lou, I… I don’t want to sound clingy or selfish or anything, but I miss you so much these days. You… I know you love your job, but we barely get to see each other anymore. It’s stupid, I know, but you’re always out late because you got tied up in something, and… I just miss you. I always eat alone and sometimes I fall asleep before you even get home, and it hurts me.”_

_“Aw, babe, I’m sorry. I’ll try to get home earlier, yeah?”_

_“No, Lou, that’s not the point. We_ tried _that already, remember? You said that you’d get home earlier two months ago, and you’re still out til eleven or even midnight…I wish you’d just make some time for me. S-Sometimes, I wonder if you love me or your j-job better.” Harry’s tearing up, but he regrets the words immediately after they leave his mouth. He hopes Louis will overlook his words, but he has no such luck._

_When Louis finally speaks, his voice is deathly calm. “Harry. You know I love my job, but I would never put it above you.”_

_“T-Then how do you explain the fact that we haven’t had a proper meal together in three months? How do you explain that we haven’t had sex beyond sloppy blowies for the past two weeks because you get home so late and we’re tired? And h-how do you explain the fact that I’ve- I’ve w-woken up al-alone for the past week?! HOW? HOW DO YOU FUCKING EXPLAIN MY FEELING THAT YOU DON’T FUCKING LOVE ME ANYMORE?” Harry’s voice gets progressively higher and louder until he cuts off with a choked sob and pushes himself out of his chair, ready to head down the hall to their room._

_“Of course I love you, Harry! Why would you think otherwise? It’s just…. do you know how busy I am? Do you know how hard I work to provide for the two of us in the shitty flat?! Do you THINK I don’t want to spend time with you and have sex with you and wake up to your face in the mornings?! Of course I want to do all that! I’m just swamped at work right now! I promise, promisepromisepromise you that I will take you out to dinner on Saturday, okay?” Louis stands and reaches a helpless hand towards Harry, as if he has any way to stop him._

_“Since when have promises meant anything to you? You promised me that you’d try to come home earlier, but look at the fucking clock, it’s almost midnight. Louis, you know me. We’ve been together for a year. You know that I crave, that I literally_ need _to be able to see you and cuddle you and love you. You know that. I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”_

_“K-Kitten?”_

_“Don’t fucking ‘kitten’ me. We’re done, Louis, I’m so sorry, but we’re done. Please get out of my flat.”_

_“Harry, I-”_

_Harry turns to face Louis, his eyes bright with tears but ice-cold. When he speaks, his voice is pained, but laced with a tinge of anger. “What part of ‘please leave’ do you not understand, Louis?”_

_“…goodbye, Haz.”_

_Louis walks out the front door without looking back._

_Harry slumps back into his chair at the table, no tears rolling until he looks up and sees Louis’ cold, undrunk cup of tea on the table._

_Then the dam breaks and Harry sobs, shoulders heaving and sobs wracking their way up his lungs._

_They were over._

_> > _

Harry sits and stares at the box of Yorkshire, glaring at it as if that would make it go away. He sighs, then picks it up and stuffs it in the back of his tea cupboard behind the English Breakfast, Earl Grey, and Jasmine.

 

>>>>> 2

The second time Harry drops a box of Yorkshire into his shopping cart after Louis left, it’s a Sunday. It’s a Sunday and as he’d gone in to Tesco’s he’d run into, guess who, Louis.

“Oops, sorry, mate- _Louis?_ ”

The man he’s almost knocked over looks up at him. “Kitten?” It seems to slip out automatically, but Louis slaps his hand over his mouth the moment he says it.

“Hi, Louis.”

“Hi, Harry.”

They stare at each other in a not-uncomfortable silence until a frazzled mom with a baby carriage knocks into Harry.

“Um, so how are you?” Harry asks.

Louis winces.

“I mean, um, of course, well, I meant, what the fuck am I saying…”

“What are you on about? You do talk some shit, Harry.” Louis teases lightly.

Harry blushes. “I, um. How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been better, I guess.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm. I… I’m gonna be honest, I miss my little spoon.”

Harry’s breath catches. “I-I…okay.”

“Shit, sorry, was that too forward?” Louis rushes to backpedal.

“No, no… just… ‘s still raw, I guess.”

Louis’ shoulders slump. “I miss you, Harry.” He’s studying the scuffed tips of his Vans, but Harry can tell he’s listening intently for Harry to reply.

“I…I miss you too, Lou. Fuck, I miss you so much.” Harry breathes, the tip of his boot going over to tap Louis’ foot. “What happened that night, I didn’t mean it. You know I love- _loved_ you.”

A shadow flits across Louis’ face at the Harry’s correction, but it disappears quickly. “Yeah, me…me too.”

A silence, this time uncomfortable, falls over them.

Harry clears his throat. “Lou?”

“Hmm?”

“Will… will you go out with me? Can we try again?”

Louis stares at Harry until Harry worries he’s overstepped a line. “…yeah. Yeah, that sounds great, Haz. I’ll pick you up at our- _your_ place tonight at six-thirty?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you then.”

They’d parted ways and Harry had gone to do his shopping. He dropped a box of Yorkshire into his shopping cart by accident, distracted by replaying his conversation with Louis, but couldn’t muster up the heart to put it back.

>> 

Harry spends the hour before his date frantically throwing clothes out of his closet. He has no idea why the fuck he’s so nervous. It’s _Louis_ , for fuck’s sake. Louis, who’s seen him ugly-cry when their old cat died, who’s seen him at his sickest and who’s seen him through some of his worst hangovers, and loved him anyways.

Harry doesn’t know what to think about Louis now. It’s only been three weeks, but it feels like so much has changed.

He ends up wearing the sheer black shirt that Louis used to love, a pair of black skinny jeans that he has to shimmy into, and a random headscarf he pulls from his closet a minute before there’s a knock on the door.

When Harry opens the door, he’s shell-shocked by Louis’ beauty, still. Louis’ just in a simple grey jumper and white skinny jeans, but he’s _beautiful_. His hair’s pulled up into what Harry used to call a cinnamon swirl.

“Hi.” Harry breathes.

“Hi, Harry. You… look really good.”

“Y-You too.”

Louis laughs quietly as Harry stares. His lips quirk up in a smile. “Like what you see, then?”

Harry nods a little too eagerly, then shakes his head slightly to try and clear it from the haze of louis _louis **louisLOUIS**_.

“Let’s go then.” Louis turns to head out to his car, and Harry follows after locking his door behind him. The inside of this car is as, if not more, familiar to Harry as his own car, and he doesn’t know whether to feel pained or relieved at its familiar worn-soft black leather seats and the usual mess of footballs in the backseat and takeout containers in the front.

“Shitshitshit, sorry it’s a mess. I forgot to clean it up.” Louis rushes to pick everything up and dump it in the backseat before Harry gets in.

“It’s fine, Louis.” Harry’s soft voice stops Louis’ frantic scrabbling. “It’s fine. I… I like the familiarity.”

Louis nods slowly, then sits back upright in his seat. Harry slides in, and off they go.

>> 

They end up at Roscoes’, their old favorite Italian restaurant.

“You remembered.” Harry says.

“Of course.” Louis replies with a shy smile.

They head in and are taken to their old table in the back corner. They already know what they want to eat, but they glance over the menu anyways. Louis flags down a waiter and rattles off his order, and seems to be about to order for Harry when he pauses and looks across the table.

“Same as usual, Lou.” Harry prompts. Louis finishes the order and turns back to Harry.

“Wasn’t sure if you wanted something else…” The _since we ended things_ goes unspoken, sitting heavy between them.

“I haven’t been here since the last time you brought me. It’s _our_ spot, and it feels… wrong, I guess, to be here without you.” Harry doesn’t know what the fuck is coming out of his mouth, but he agrees with it.

“Yeah, I mean, I haven’t been back here either, besides the one time I brought Niall because he was scouting out places for a date with Josh.”

“Oh, they _finally_ got their shit together?” Harry thinks he really ought to know this stuff, but when he and Louis split, Niall kind of sided with Louis because they grew up together. Fuck, he feels like he’s missed so much, even though it’s only been three weeks since they split. Niall had been pining for years, the last time he heard. Apparently, he’s managed to man up and tell Josh in the short span of time Harry and Louis have been apart. Who knows, maybe what remained of their once-infinite love escaped to Niall’s courage.

“…Harry?” Louis snaps his fingers in front of Harry’s face.

Harry blinks a little. “What? Oh, sorry, I spaced out…?”

Louis smiles fondly, his face soft in the dim glow of the restaurant lights. “It’s okay, babe.”

The rest of their meal is spent with soft laughter, easy conversation, and gentle touches. Louis insists on paying, and Harry lets him. When Louis drives Harry home, it’s like they never broke up at all. It’s like they’re still in young and in love. They pull up to Harry’s flat complex , and Harry sits for a minute, not wanting to ruin the night.

“Thank you, Lou.”

Louis smiles and ruffles Harry’s curls. “No problem.”

“I’ll text you?”

“Yeah, that sounds fine.”

“Goodnight, Louis.”

Louis doesn’t reply for a minute, before he murmurs, “Goodnight, kitten.”

Something warm bubbles up inside of Harry and he pecks Louis on the cheek before blushing and hurrying back to his flat.

Louis watches him go, fondness still apparent on his face.

>> 

Over the next couple weeks, Harry and Louis go on a few more dates. They’re almost as close as they used to be, but Harry feels like Louis is holding back just a hair. He doesn’t blame him, Harry himself still tip-toes around certain topics, like work and jobs and things like that.

One night, Louis shows up at Harry’s door.

“Come in, door’s unlocked!” Harry calls.

Louis waltzes into the living room and flops on the couch. “Hi Harry.”

“Hi. Why are you here?”

The smile slips off Louis’ face. “Why, do you not want me here?”

“No, no, it’s fine. Just… don’t you usually have a shift now?”

“Nah, got someone to cover for me. I… wanted to talk.”

“O-kay… The last time one of us said that, not-good things happened.”

Louis grimaces, but pushes through. “Basically, what are we now?”

This stops Harry in his tracks, and he sits on the opposite end of the couch that Louis’ on, not wanting to get too close, yet.

“I… don’t know. What do you want us to be?”

“Can we try again? As boyfriends?”

Harry frowns, rolling the idea over in his mind. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.” _I’m not sure if my heart can take another battering._ “Wouldn’t it be kind of… awkward?”

Louis sighs. “Well, we don’t have to, I guess. Then I’ll just…” He goes to stand up, but Harry’s hand shoots out and blocks him.

“Wait. I want to. I want to try again. As your boyfriend. But just for like a couple weeks? Would that be okay?”

A tiny, almost imperceptible smile grows on Louis’ lips. “Okay, kitten.”

“So, how do you wanna do this? Do you wanna move back in here? Or just stay separate?”

Louis turns shy, wiggling his socked foot under Harry’s thigh. “Can I move back here?”

Harry smiles brightly and nods.

>> 

The day Louis’ scheduled to move back to Harry’s flat, Harry’s giddy, to say the least. He’s missed having company, and he thinks he never actually got over Louis. He preps the guest room for Louis, dancing to Beyoncé and Shakira and shaking his hips like nobody’s business. When a light laugh startles Harry, he whips around to see Louis watching.

“Hey, I thought you were going to text me when you got here!”

Louis thinks he looks like a disgruntled kitten, but answers him anyways. “Well, thought I’d surprise you.”

Harry snorts unattractively. “I’ll have you know that I’m naked ninety percent of the time when I’m home.”

Louis smirks and opens his mouth as if to say something suggestive, but snaps it shut when he remembers that, _right_ , they’re kinda half-dating/trying again.

Harry sighs as if he read Louis’ mind, but doesn’t say anything and finishes up putting clean sheets on the bed. He kind of wishes Louis would just be normal again, innuendos and all. After all, they were best of friends before they dated, and now, it’s just… awkward. Harry really hopes they can sort their shit out over the next couple of weeks. He misses his best friend.

>> 

That night, they watch _Love, Actually_ on Harry’s insistence, tangled in a pile of limbs on the couch. As the credits roll, Harry yawns and lets his head drop against Louis’ shoulder. Louis nuzzles into his hair and Harry sighs in contentment. For a moment, it actually feels like nothing ever tarnished their love, like nothing ever managed to water down the bright, happy blazes of their relationship. Harry wants this moment to last forever, but he knows it won’t.

“I’m gonna head up to bed,” he murmurs.

“Kay, I’ll just tidy up a little down here.” Louis smiles into Harry’s scalp and gently pushes him upright.

“G’night, Lou.”

“Night, Hazza.”

Harry makes his way to his room, pausing at the door when he hears Louis humming as he tidies up. Something tugs gently at Harry’s heart, but he brushes it off and goes to get ready for bed.

<< 

_Harry’s 18 and he’s sitting nervously in a corner table at Roscoes’, waiting for his date to show up. Niall had set him up with some guy he knew through a friend, and Harry’s starting to doubt his decision. The guy’s already ten minutes late._

_Suddenly, just as Harry’s pulling out his phone to text Niall, someone slides into the seat opposite his. Harry takes in the boy’s face. He’s got bright, bright blue eyes, a feathery fringe, and the sharpest cheekbones known to man._

_“Hi, I’m Louis.” And Harry knows he’s fucked, because this angel before him has a beautiful, lilting voice that complements his appearance, and is it too soon to fall in love?_

_“Um, I’m Harry,” Harry manages to get out._

_“Hello, Harry! You’re actually quite fit!” Louis exclaims._

_“Huh?”_

_“I’m just gonna say that I wasn’t optimistic about meeting you when Niall told me about you.”_

_“What, did you think I was going to be ugly or something?”_

_“Eh, I wasn’t about to get my hopes up,” Louis laughs and Harry swoons inside. Louis’ laugh is like that sound when wind just gently taps a windchime._

_“Well, I hope I didn’t disappoint.”_

_“You’re really pretty, so no, you didn’t disappoint.”_

_“You’re really pretty, too.”_

_The waiter comes by with water for them and takes their orders._

_“So, Harry, what do you do? Niall didn’t say how old you were, but I’m going to assume you’re in uni?”_

_“I’m eighteen, and yeah, I’m in uni for English. I love kids, so I’m probably gonna be a teacher when I graduate. What about you?”_

_“I dropped out of high school because I wanted to spend more time playing footie, but then I banged up my knee and I was out of a job. Luckily, though, Niall knew someone who got me a fairly interesting position in a graphics design office.”_

_“Nice. So…”_

_At that moment, the food arrived, saving Harry from having to continue the conversation._

_Louis insisted on paying, much to Harry’s chagrin._

_“Need a ride home, Harry?”_

_“I’m good, but thanks.”_

_“Did you_ walk _?”_

_“Yeah, I just live about fifteen minutes from here.”_

_Louis’ forehead crinkled. “It’s dark and cold out. C’mon, get in the car, I’ll drive you.”_

_Harry hesitated for a minute, before he nodded. “Okay.”_

_When they pulled up outside of Harry’s flat, Harry didn’t quite want to leave the warmth of the car yet. Louis didn’t seem in a hurry to get Harry out, either._

_“Well. Goodnight, Harry.”_

_“Goodnight, Louis. We should do this again?”_

_“Yeah, yeah. That’d be great…” On an impulse, Louis leaned over the console and pecked Harry on the cheek._

_Harry bushed before wishing Louis goodnight one more time and getting out of the car._

_> > _

When Harry wakes up in Louis’ arms, he isn’t surprised, even though Louis did technically have his own room. Neither of them had ever slept that well without each other.

 

>>>>> 3

The third time Harry drops a box of Yorkshire into his shopping cart after Louis left, Louis is right beside him. Louis had blown through the two boxes Harry had in his cabinet within a week, and now, it was the beginning of the second trial week. Both of them had started opening back up and getting closer.

“Okay, so we’ve got your tea, my tea, eggs, bacon, strawberries, heavy cream, and… grab that cocoa powder, right. Do you want anything?” Harry glances at Louis, who’s gaping at him.

“Oh my god, Harry. You’re missing all the good shit. Here, c’mon.” Louis wrestles the cart from Harry and pushes it towards the snack aisles. He grabs packs upon packs of cookies and chocolate and crisps and Harry is horrified.

“No, Louis, I’m not buying all that preservative-filled junk! I can make cookies at home, don’t get those…” Harry acts offended even as he feels himself slipping further in back love with Louis’ adorable, stubborn petulance.

“Then I’ll buy it.” Louis finishes throwing junk food into Harry’s cart and puts a hand on his hip, popping it out slightly. “C’mon, let’s go. I promise I’ll pay for my own stuff, and you’re making cookies for me. We’ll have a competition. Your homemade cookies, or my factory-produced ones?”

“Well, you know how good my cookies are, so.” Harry shrugs.

>> 

When they get back to Harry’s flat, Louis helps bring the bags inside and proceeds to rummage through Harry’s pantry, rearranging some things to make room for his new purchases. Harry watches him in bemusement.

“Harry,” Louis calls, voice slightly muffled, “Why do you have fifteen different types of seeds in here? You’ve got sunflower, pumpkin…chia? What the fuck are chia seeds? Aren’t those the things that grow the hair in those plant creature thingies?”

“Chia seeds are good for you!” Harry retorted indignantly. “And, yeah, I suppose they are. Anyways, finish putting that stuff up and I’ll make some cookies for your comparison to that factory-produced shit.”

When Harry’s done mixing his cookie batter (with “help” from Louis), he scoops clumps onto a cookie sheet and slides them in the oven. Louis is making himself yet another cup of tea, and Harry pokes him in amusement.

“Lou, if you keep drinking four cups or more a day, we’ll be out by Thursday.”

Louis shrugs, bringing the steaming mug to his lips. He takes a sip. “Well,” he answers when he’s swallowed, “I’ll just go run out and grab another then.”

Harry scrunches his nose up as he watches Louis’ long eyelashes flutter against his cheekbones when he takes another sip of tea. When Louis looks up, he watches as Harry bites his pink lower lip.

“Harry, you’re staring, babe.” The pet name slips out by accident, but Harry’s dimple appears as he smiles shyly.

“I kinda really wanna kiss you, Lou.” Harry murmurs, entranced by the way Louis is staring at his lips.

Without warning, Louis surges forward and presses their lips together in a sweet kiss, his hands coming up to rest on the dip of Harry’s waist. Harry’s soft hands come up to cup Louis’ face, and Louis deepens the kiss with a groan, licking into Harry’s mouth, the motion still so familiar after their time apart. When they finally have to come up for air, they’re both panting slightly and Harry’s lips are pink and slick and swollen and he’s missed this so much. He’s missed _Louis_ so much. Louis’ staring back at him with an unreadable look on his face until the shutters from last week seem to come back down and Louis steps back, pulling out of Harry’s touch.

“Um, I’ll just… be going then.” Louis turns on his heel and shuffles to the guest room, closing the door softly behind him.

Harry stares after him, a million thoughts running through his head and his chest aching with the need to touch Louis again, to show him that he still loves him. Did Louis regret the kiss? Did he decide that Harry wasn’t as good as he remembered? (Harry knows that Louis is just as good as _he_ remembers). Did Louis think the kiss was a _mistake_?

>> 

Harry ends up making dinner in silence, alone in the kitchen. He misses Louis’ chattering. When he’s dished up the chicken and mash, he goes to Louis’ door and is about to knock when he hears Louis crying softly. He sounds like he’s on the phone.

“…fuck! I don’t know, Ni. I wanna tell him, but I don’t think he’ll appr-appreciate it.” He’s silent as he listens to the person on the other end of the line, presumably Niall.

“I don’t know! He’s just, so like amazing and kind and- and he’s _so beautiful,_ Niall. He’s like an _angel_  when he’s sleeping and, fuck, I always wanna just like, cuddle the shit out of him… Anyways, I gotta go, but thanks, Ni. Thanks for listening to me, love. I’ll call you later.”

Harry knows he should get the hell out of there before he’s caught listening, but he can’t bring himself to. Louis opens the door. He’s a little red-eyed and sniffles before he sees Harry.

“Um. How long have you been here?”

Harry has no answer for him.

“Well, whatever you heard, it didn’t mean anything, okay? Let’s eat.” Louis strides into the kitchen without looking at Harry.

If that didn’t mean anything, Harry doesn’t know what to feel about Louis anymore. He doesn’t know if Louis likes him or not, and he’s really quite upset about it. His entire body feels like it’s panging with loss but he shoves it in the back of his mind and puts on a smile as he heads back to the kitchen.

Their dinner is awkward and stilted. Harry’s attempts at conversation are met with monosyllabic answers and a grimace. Harry doesn’t know what he’s done wrong to make Louis like this. 

“Louis?”

Louis glances up from where he’s picking at the mash. “Yeah.”

“Um, what did I do?”

“As in?”

“What did I do to make you like,” Harry waves his free hand at Louis, “This?”

Louis sighs and sets down his fork next to his mostly-full plate. “It’s nothing. Uh, I’m not too hungry, I’m probably gonna get to bed soon, okay?” Without waiting for Harry’s reply, Louis slides his chair back and sets his plate next to the sink. Harry, who’s still sitting at the table, manages a small goodnight.

After the guest room door shuts behind Louis, Harry looks down at his plate, where he’s eaten most of his food. Bitter tears sting to life in his eyes as he stands, scrapes his plate off in the trash, and places the dish into the sink. He doesn’t know what he did wrong. Was he too forward for Louis? Should he have not asked to kiss? He grabs Louis’ plate and scrapes it off viciously into the trash, watching as his hard work disappears into a mound of banana peels, tea bags, and other random shit.

He’s cold when he sleeps that night, burrowed into Louis’ side of the bed, where his scent is the strongest.

>> 

The next morning, Louis acts like none of it ever happened. He’s just as cheerful as he usually is, and Harry doesn’t know what to think. Should he bring it up? Does he just ignore it? Louis doesn’t really give him a chance to say anything as he rambles on about the randomest shit as they eat. Once they’ve finished breakfast, Louis goes to make himself a cup of tea and while he’s occupied, Harry speaks up.

“Louis, so about yesterday.”

Louis freezes, mug in hand. “…yeah?”

“I… I just want you to know, I don’t regret what we did yesterday. I really don’t. I don’t regret asking for a kiss. I don’t regret the kiss. I miss you, Lou. I miss what we used to be like. I miss kissing you. I miss just lounging around with you. I miss how much fun we used to have.”

“I do too, Harry. Believe me, I do. I want to do all of that so bad. I want us to work out again. And what you heard me saying to Niall yesterday? I meant it all. I meant every single word of it, Haz. I think you’re beautiful. Like some hipster angel sent to remind me of all the mistakes I’ve made.” Louis says the last bit with a little grimace, like he thinks himself just a little inferior to Harry.

“Oi, I’m not _that_ hipster.”

“Yeah you are, love.”

Harry grins as Louis prods at his dimple with a gentle thumb. Neither of them have missed Louis’ pet name, and Harry likes the progress they’re making. He wants them to work out so bad, and he’s got a good feeling for this week.

>> 

The good feeling only sticks around for another few days, just like the Yorkshire. Louis has probably two or three cups a day, as Harry watches in amusement. As open as they’ve been around each other lately, Harry’s getting increasingly frustrated with how Louis is sometimes what he remembers, but mostly still seems closed off. He tries to bring it up one night, but Louis avoids his questions and changes the topic. Harry doesn’t know if he’s projecting, or if he’s trying too hard, or if they’re really just no longer meant to be, but they can’t seem to fall back into the easy swing of work, play, and relaxation they used to have. Maybe that’s why it’s not really so much of a surprise when one night, he comes home from Tesco’s to Louis sitting at the dining table, back ramrod straight and completely still but for his hands, which are fidgeting nervously. Harry already knows where this is going, and his throat tightens.

“Hi Harry,” Louis says quietly, _nervously_ , “Can we talk?”

Harry leaves his groceries in the kitchen and comes to pull a chair out across from Louis.

“Harry, I just want you to know that these two weeks- one and a half weeks- have been some of the best times in my life, but I’m not sure i-if I can do this anymore. I don’t feel that same spark that we used to have, y’know?”

Harry’s heart is breaking, crumbling inside him, even though he saw this coming days ago. “Yeah.”

Louis sighs. “I’m really sorry, kitten. I just… don’t feel like we’re gonna work out.” Tears have started welling in both of their eyes and neither wants to be the first one to let them slip. Harry scrubs at his eyes vigorously.

“Are you going to stay tonight, then?”

“If that’s okay with you. I don’t want to bother Niall so late.” It’s only 8:30, but Harry knows. He knows that Louis needs the closure. He knows that _he_ needs the closure.

“Yeah. That’s fine.”

They stand in unison and avoid each other’s eyes as Harry goes to put the groceries away and Louis pads off to his room. When the door shuts behind him, Harry falls onto the couch and starts sobbing into his hands. He’d hoped this would work. He had wanted it to work so badly.

Little does he know that Louis is doing the same thing into his pillow. Little does he know that Louis had wanted them to work out too. Little does he know that Louis was trying so hard to keep some of his own shit to himself because he didn’t want to scare Harry off and it ended up having the opposite effect.

(they both still loved each other, and… and probably never stopped)

>> 

The next morning, Harry wakes up to all traces of Louis removed from his flat. All the sheets in the guest room have been folded neatly into a pile at the end of the bed and a lot of the junk food has been taken. The only things remaining are Louis’ fading scent in Harry’s bed, Louis’ favorite mug, and a little note in said mug.

_Kitten- I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye. I couldn’t bring myself to wake you up, or to make you even more upset. All I want to say is that I’m sorry and you’re always in my heart. Yours sincerely, Louis._

Harry scans over the note with teary eyes and sets it back down in the mug as he opens the tea cabinet to make himself something to calm his heart. He sees the box of Yorkshire and the last lonesome bag still sitting in it, and he almost starts bawling right then and there. Only the thought that Louis is probably happy now keeps him from it.

(only…louis isn’t.)

 

>>>>>4

The fourth time Harry drops a box of Yorkshire into his cart after Louis left ( _twice_ , his traitorous brain adds), he’s stocking up on food. And by food, he means ice cream, chocolate, and some of that cheap liquor from the back of the store. (No, it’s not because he just broke up, it’s because- er, he just wants it?) He doesn’t mean to go to the tea aisle. He doesn’t mean to go exactly halfway down and pick up that box, and he swears he’s not going to, but his hand refuses to obey him and he drops the box into his cart anyways.

He rings it all up and heads back out to his car in defeat.

When he gets home, he lets himself into his flat and leaves his bags in the kitchen before throwing himself facedown down on the bed, letting out a shuddering breath as he tries not to think of Louis.

Eventually, he falls asleep. He doesn’t dream of anything but blackness and a certain scent that used to envelop him every night.

>> 

Harry spends the next few days moping around, barely getting off his bed enough to eat and use the toilet. He hasn’t showered in days and his sheets are all gross and sweaty and really should be changed soon, but he hasn’t got the energy required to get up and to the linen closet. He can see food stains on his sweats from all the way across the room, and normally it’d bother the fuck out of him, but right now, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything anymore. His phone is sitting sadly on his side table, long dark and dead. _Much like me,_ Harry laughs bitterly. If it were on, his lockscreen would be that one picture of him and Louis- the one of them on the back of a scooter somewhere in Europe. They’re both glowing and happy and Harry knows it was because Louis had just asked him to be his boyfriend.  (of course he’d said yes). His homescreen is something a little more intimate- it’s a picture of the rain on the window that rainy day when their cat had died and Harry had curled up next to him, wiping his tears on Louis’ jumper.

But neither the lockscreen nor homescreen is showing because his phone died a long time ago and he hasn’t got any energy to go charge it, even though he knows he should because people are probably looking for him. He kind of also wants to see Louis’ face again, but he knows he’ll break down crying if he does, so he doesn’t.

(it’s a pretty apt metaphor for his relationship with louis.)

The front door opening shakes Harry out of his reverie.

“Who’s there?” Harry yells, looking around for something hard to hit the intruder with.

Niall appears in the doorframe, bearing takeout and a determined look on his face.

“You are going to eat this, take a shower, put on your best take-me-home  outfit, and we are going out tonight.”

Harry blinks, taken aback. “What the fuck, Niall.”

Niall sighs. “Look, the only reason I’m doing this is because Louis fucking _begged_ me to. Idiot’s been crying and moping around for the last few days. This morning, he called me up and I quote,” Niall adopts a high, raspy voice that’s meant to sound like Louis, “’Neil, go t’ ‘arreh’s flat and make sure ‘e’s either ‘appy or take him out t’night or do _somethin’_ an’ make sure ‘e’s not sad, ‘s all ‘m askin’,’ and so of course, I, like the good friend I am, go buy takeout and go check on me mate’s ex. Honestly why do I even try.”

“I, um, thanks, Niall.” Harry’s kind of shocked, but not all too surprised, that Louis did (aka had Niall do) something like this.

“So get your arse in the shower while I heat up the food.” Niall disappears, presumably, to the kitchen.

Harry closes his eyes for a minute, trying to summon up the energy to get up. When he hears the microwave start up, he slowly slides out of bed and stumbles to the bathroom, tripping over piles of dirty clothes on the way.

He strips and steps in the shower, shuddering as the cold spray of water swishes over his head and torso before it warms up. He has to scrub his hair out three times before it isn’t greasy.

“Harry, I’ve left your clothes outside your door, so hurry the fuck up.” Niall calls through the door.

“Okay _mom_ , _thank you_.” Harry calls back, hurriedly rinsing off his bodywash and stepping out to grab a towel. He opens the door to find a neatly-folded stack of clothes-  boxers, a black sheer button-up, and that one pair of black skinnies that need to be painted on. Harry’s fingers shake as he buttons up the shirt, but he doesn’t know why. He has to do a little shimmy around the bathroom to pull his jeans on, and he leaves his hair down and fluffy.

(maybe the shake in his fingers has to do with the fact that this was the outfit he used to wear on dates with louis.)

>> 

When Niall and Harry step in the club, Harry is instantly overloaded with flashing lights and a thudding bass that he can feel in his bones. Niall disappears into the crowd with a yell that roughly translates to something to the effect of “SEE YA LATER MATE.”

Harry makes his way through the crowded dancefloor over to the bar, knowing that he’s going to need more alcohol in him before he can even attempt to pick someone up. He’s jostled from side to side when people knock into him, but he pushes on and eventually makes it through. The bartender is decently hot, all bulging muscles and a charming smile, but neither of them compare to Louis’ toned arms and crinkly-eyed, sun-like beam. Harry shakes his head to clear it of blueblueblue eyes and deceptively-dainty hands. This is not the purpose of coming to the club. The purpose here is to rebound from Louis, not compare people to him. Unfortunately, Harry finds himself sizing people up according to Louis specifications, even as he gets drunker and drunker.

Harry slips onto the dance floor at some point when he’s decently tipsy, grinding up lightly against a man who’s taller than him and doesn’t fit quite right against his back but this is what Harry’s looking for. Someone different than Louis.

Suddenly, a shrill admonishment breaks into Harry’s thoughts.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! This is my boyfriend!” The girl is wearing a tight, short red dress that flatters her curves, but her face is pinched in a frown.

“I…I’m very sorry, I didn’t know…” Harry’s words come out more slurred than he intends them to, and he frowns at himself.

The girl huffs and storms off unsteadily on four-inch heels, dragging her equally-drunk boyfriend behind her. Harry stares mournfully at their retreating backs until something small and loud crashes into his back.

“’arreh!” A familiar drunk voice exclaims, and no, _no_ , this is not good. Louis is not supposed to be here. Louis is supposed to be home wallowing in self-pity like Harry should be.

“Dance with me, kitten?” Louis slurs into Harry’s ear. He’s fairly wasted, and Harry shouldn’t do this, but the song switches to something much dirtier, with a heavy bass line, and he nods. Louis plasters himself to Harry’s back, his hands sliding to their familiar place on Harry’s hips, and Harry automatically grinds up against him. He tips his head back, letting Louis get access to mark up his neck, claiming him. He can feel Louis’ semi against his bum, and it turns him on more than it should, knowing that he came here to rebound from Louis and that he’s probably gonna end up going home with him.

“Louis, we-we shouldn’t…” Harry whimpers against his will as Louis sucks a row of bruises into his jaw.

“Shouldn’t what, babe?” Even as drunk as he is, Louis is still as considerate as Harry knows he is and backs off on the lovebites.

“I came here to rebound from… you.” Harry says, very seriously for his level of drunkenness. “If we hook up tonight, I don’t know what that would do to me.”

Louis is quiet for a few moments, still unconsciously grinding up into Harry. “If you don’t want to, I can go, I guess.”

Harry furrows his brow as he tries to compare the pros and cons with alcohol clouding his mind, but in the end, he gives in. “Okay, okay. Come back to mine?”

“Yeah, let’s go. Do you need to text Niall or anything?”

“No, it’s fine- wait, did Niall tell you I’d be here?”

Louis pauses just outside the door and looks at Harry, uncertainty shadowing his face. “Um, yeah, I guess he did. C’mon, let’s call a cab.” It’s a poor change of topic, and both of them know it. As they wait in the nippy breeze for their cab to arrive, Harry wonders if Louis’ missed him as much as he’s missed Louis. At first glance, Louis looks brilliant, glowing, even, but Harry’s known Louis long enough to look further. He can just make out the tired slant of the corners of Louis’ eyes and how Louis’ tried to cover up the dark circles under his eyes with cheap, off-brand foundation. Harry opens his mouth to speak just as their cab pulls up, and he shuts his mouth again.

“Where to?” The cabbie looks worn and tired.

Harry rattles off his address and turns to curl into Louis’ side in the backseat.

In the back of the cab, it’s quiet and solemn, much unlike any other club hookup that either of them have ever had. They’re not climbing all over each other trying to keep their clothes for just a little longer, and neither are they passed out or close to passing out. They’re just sitting close, Louis’ arm curled protectively around Harry. Somehow, this feels like it’s going to be the last time anything happens between them like this again, and both are reluctant to address the topic.

When they get to Harry’s flat, Louis takes the time to count out the fare and thank the cabbie, who nods him off with a twitch of the corner of his mouth. Harry’s waiting for Louis at the door. He unlocks it and lets them both in. Louis kicks it shut behind them, and guides them to Harry’s room. He backs Harry towards the bed until Harry falls onto the mattress and pulls Louis down on top of him. Louis presses their lips together in a sweet, chaste kiss until Harry pulls back to whisper against Louis’ lips.

“Do… do we need to talk about this?”

“About what, kitten?”

Harry gestures between them. “Like, us. What we are and what we’re doing?”

Louis hesitates a minute before lowering his head to suck another mark on Harry’s jaw. When he finishes, he murmurs against the prettily bruised skin, “Let’s talk in the morning, okay?”

“’kay.” With that, Harry scooches so that he’s fully on the bed with Louis kneeling between his legs. Louis pins him down against the bed and smashes their lips together in a rough kiss, their teeth clacking together and sending a tiny jolt of pain that shoots straight to Harry’s dick. Louis lowers himself against Harry and grinds down, setting a rolling pace with his hips. Harry’s hands slide down to Louis’ waist and he groans as Louis licks into his mouth.

Louis pulls back far enough to pant against Harry’s lips, “Clothes off, kitten.”

Harry shivers and gently pushes Louis off him so they can throw their clothes off. At this point, Harry doesn’t even care where his stuff ends up. When he and Louis are down to just their boxers, Harry pulls Louis back on top of him and slips a thigh between Louis’ legs. They grind frantically against each other for a couple moments before Harry gasps and pushes Louis up so that they can look each other in the eye.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I… _fuck_ , Louis, need you… need you in me, please.”

Louis’ breath hitches and his pupils blow out even farther. “Y-Yeah, we can do that.” He reaches over to Harry’s drawer, blindly groping around to find the lube. He finds it and pauses, something seeming to hit his mind.

“Do we need a condom?”

Harry bit his lip. They hadn’t used to use condoms ever since they’d been together for about three weeks and tested clean. “No, I haven’t been with anyone since- since… you.”

Louis heaved out a relieved sigh. “Me neither, kitten. So can we go without then?”

“Yeah, now c’mon, Lou, need you.”

“Shh, be patient, babe. Need to prep you.”

Harry shivers as he hears the _snick_ of the lube opening. He feels a cold, slick finger prod gently at his hole and whimpers, trying to cant his hips down to get it inside. Louis obliges with a small laugh and presses his finger in to the knuckle. Harry breathes out sharply as Louis crooks his finger up, looking for that one spot inside him. When Louis finally grazes Harry’s prostate, Harry keens and grinds down against Louis’ finger.

“C’mon, Hazza, you know I love it when you’re loud.” Louis whispers against Harry’s thigh, where he sucks a light bruise.

“Need more, please, Lou.” Harry moans out. “Pl _ease_.”

Louis slips a second finger next to his first and Harry tries to relax at the slight burn. It’s been a while since he’s done this, probably about two or three months, so it’s not as easy as he remembers it. Still, he needs Louis _now_.

“Lou, Lou, _more_. Three, please. Need you.”

Louis smiles at Harry’s words, sliding a third finger in with his first two, scissoring them and opening Harry up. Harry gasps at the sting that shoots up his spine as Louis slithers up to suck a dark bruise on the butterfly that’s inked on Harry’s torso.

“Fuck, c’mon, Lou, need you in me now.” Their eyes meet and Harry makes his as big as possible, begging silently.

Louis finally relents, removing his fingers and wiping on the sheets. Harry winces at that, but Louis giggles at him and Harry melts back into the sheets.

“It’s okay, kitten, we’ll wash them tomorrow.”

Harry nods before wrapping his legs around Louis’ waist and nudging his back with his heels. “Okay, no more stalling, Louis, please.”

Louis presses their lips together in a short kiss before he uses a hand to line himself up. When he first presses into Harry, Harry’s breath hitches at the sudden stretch and he lets out a shaky breath.

Louis pauses, “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah… Just… been a while. Go on, I’m fine.”

Louis slowly pushes in the rest of the way until his hips are flush with Harry’s, and Harry bites his lip and wiggles a little, trying to make his body relax. Louis props himself up on his elbows, little puffs of breath hitting Harry’s mouth.

“Let me know when, babe.”

Harry nods frantically. “Ready, ready. Move please.”

Louis plants a kiss on the tip of Harry’s nose as he draws his hips back until Harry whines at him. He pushes back in slowly, savoring the tight drag and the way Harry clenches around him.

“Lou, I’m not gonna break, just fuck me.” Harry huffs out, clawing at Louis’ back.

“Okay okay.” Louis grunts as he picks up his pace, punching tiny little breaths out of Harry in _ah-ah-ah’s_. Harry gasps when Louis changes his angle and hits his prostate dead-on.

“ _Fuck_ , L-Louis. Right there, harder.” Harry mewls as Louis drops his head down to suck a dark bruise on his sweat-damp collarbone. “ _Louis,_ louloulou, more, please Lou…”

“Yeah, you like that, kitten? You like it hurting a little? Hm?” Louis pants out, “It gets you all hot, doesn’t it. Gets you wanting my cock. I know you love it when I leave my mark, yeah?” He presses a thumb into one of the hickeys he left earlier, making Harry groan and scrabble at his back.

“Oh god, Lou, fuck me, _fuck!”_

The headboard starts slamming into the wall, and Harry is so glad he doesn’t have flatmates.

“Fuckfuckfuck, Lou, ‘m gonna come- _Lou.”_

“C’mon, kitten, come for me.” Louis groans, planting a wet, open-mouthed kiss to Harry’s forehead. 

Harry drops a hand down to help himself out and it takes one, two, three pumps before he’s wailing and coming over his fist and his tummy. He shudders as Louis keeps chasing his own orgasm, pounding into his sensitive hole. Louis comes with a high moan when Harry meets his eyes, both their eyes blown huge. Harry closes his eyes as Louis flops onto his chest, breaths mingling in pants. Harry knows that they should probably get up and clean up before they get all sticky, but he’s content to stay here right now and savor Louis’ familiar weight on his chest.

<< 

_Harry looks around in confusion before he realizes that this is the room that is now labelled the guest room. It used to be Harry’s, until he and Louis became an official couple and started sharing Louis’ old room- Harry’s now. Harry feels like he’s hovering a little bit off the ground, watching his 16-year-old self cuddle up next to 18-year-old Louis, both engrossed in whatever they’re watching- Grease, probably, judging by the glow on Louis’ face. Harry remembers this night vividly, but he turns his attention back to the two as the movie ends._

_Louis stretches and ruffles Harry’s hair, making both of the Harrys smile, one happily and one bitterly. “Alright, love, I’m gonna head to bed now.”_

_Harry nods and yawns, getting up to brush his teeth and pulling Louis behind him._

_Harry watches himself and Louis giggling with foamy mouths and garbled teasing, watches something occur to his younger self and watches himself turn serious quickly._

_They spit out the foam and rinse and dry their mouths, getting ready to part ways at the bathroom door._

_“Um, Louis?” Harry stammers._

_“Yeah, babe?”_

_“D-Do you wanna sleep in my bed tonight?”_

_Louis’ eyes widen in surprise, but he smiles, eyes crinkling. “Of course, love.”_

_Harry blushes and bites his lip, allowing Louis to lead them back to Harry’s room and curl up behind Harry._

_The Harry that’s watching this all play out has to look away, knowing that next is their very first kiss and the start of what would be called young love. He feels like his heart is being ripped out and smashed to bits right in front of him, and it hurts like hell. It hurts to know that they’re gonna be blissfully in love for a while. Harry remembers planning their wedding one night, a few months before they break it off and it_ hurts _. It hurts and Harry doesn’t know what to do._

>> 

When Harry wakes up, it’s to a pounding headache and the sun in his eyes. When he sees a glass of water and two ibuprofen on the side table, his stomach turns and he stumbles to the bathroom and wretches into the toilet. He hates that Louis still takes care of him like he used to. He hates it with a burning passion, because it’s not supposed to be this way. Louis’ not supposed to take care of him. It was supposed to a one night stand with an awkward morning-after, a “thanks for the shag” and the exchange of phone numbers that will never be used.

(but harry knows. he knows that he and louis were never common. the way they interacted and the way things fell into place when they were together wasn’t common. it was a rare, beautiful thing that neither of them could seem to muster up enough devotion to nurture. )

Harry rinses out his mouth, brushes his teeth, downs the pills, and chases them with a gulp of water. He can hear someone clattering around in the kitchen, and he can only assume it’s Louis. He pads down the hall in just boxers and a t-shirt.

Louis jumps a little when Harry coughs to get his attention. He’s clutching his favorite mug and is on tiptoes trying to reach the box of Yorkshire in Harry’s tea cabinet. He’s already dressed back in the clothes he had on last night.

“Mornin’, Harreh.” Louis’ morning voice has always been one of Harry’s favorites. It’s when his accent is more pronounced and Louis in general is just more open, more vulnerable. Harry thinks he still loves it, and he wants to cry. He wants to beg Louis to have him back, that he wants to try again, but it’s not fair to Louis, it’s not even fair to himself. They had their chance. It didn’t work, and it’s too late now.

“Morning, Louis.”

They stare at each other, drinking in what’s probably going to be the last time they ever stand together in the kitchen.

“So.” Louis breaks the silence, face solemn.

“Please don’t, Louis. I don’t want to think about it. Let me imagine that we’re fine and this is just the morning after a night of hard partying, just for a little longer, okay?” Harry practically begs.

“Yeah, okay, love.” Louis murmurs, turning back to try and reach the tea again. He manages to tip it into his hand and places it gently on the counter, opening it to grab a bag. Harry moves silently to turn the kettle on, chills running up when their fingers brush. Harry turns away before they can make eye contact and checks for milk in the fridge instead. _I take my tea with milk. …no, what do you mean, sugar? Hazza, you’ve got a lot to learn about proper tea-making._ There’s a carton that’s close to expiring, but it’ll have to do. He hands the carton to Louis, who uncaps it and pours a splash in his mug, just like Harry remembers.

When Louis’ got his tea and Harry’s popped bread in the toaster, there’s no more stalling. They both know- and, _fuck_ , Harry doesn’t want this to happen. He stares at Louis, silently pleading with him not to say it, not to start the conversation that’s going to be the last time they ever talk to each other.

“Harry, last night… it was amazing. You know that. But-” Louis hesitates.

“I know, Lou, I know. We can’t work out, fate doesn’t want us to.” Harry blurts, headache returning with new force.

Louis only nods sadly, a single tear tracking down his cheek. Harry bites his lip, hard, trying not to cry _again_.

They stare at each other for another few minutes, and Harry tracks the tears as they make their way down Louis’ face. He wants so bad to wrap Louis in a hug, to cry together and then to wipe away the tears afterwards with kisses peppered to bitten-red lips and damp cheeks and wet lashes, but he can’t. His mind and every fiber of his being is longing, _yearning_ to touch Louis, to thumb away the tears that are mirrored on his own cheeks, but he can’t. They’re not close that way anymore. Harry has to _will_ himself not to reach out and touch Louis just one last time before Louis leaves him for the third and final time.

Harry watches as Louis scrunches his eyes closed and probably tries to stop crying, but really, it doesn’t work. Louis takes a big, shaky breath and lets it out in an almost-whimper. His tea is sitting long-forgotten on the counter.

“ _Fuck_ , Harry, I have to go now, kitten. I… I’ll miss seeing you, yeah?”

Harry gulps, Louis’ figure blurring in front of him through a veil of tears. “Y-Yeah, I’ll… miss you too, Lou.”

Louis presses his lips together and closes his eyes like he’s trying to memorize his last glimpses of Harry, and Harry tries to do the same, tries to memorize the way Louis’ eyelashes clump together ( _three more on the right than the left_ , he remembers from years back), tries to sear into his memory the way Louis’ eyes get bluer and bigger when he’s crying.

Louis turns away eventually, scrubbing the back of his wrist over his eyes and shuffling towards the door, where his shoes are waiting, lined up with Harry’s, and it looks so natural, so domestic that Harry doesn’t know if he can cry any more.

“So I guess this is goodbye, then?” It’s more of a statement than a question.

Harry sniffles, making eye contact for the last time. “I suppose so. Goodbye, Louis. I wish you all the best.”

Louis looks at him with a funny look on his face, then launches forward and wraps him in a tight hug. Harry feels like everything’s come back into place again until Louis murmurs, “Goodbye, kitten.”

Harry can only squeeze tighter and hope they’ll eventually be okay.

(when louis closes the door behind him, harry can feel half of his world being torn away, but it’s better this way.)

(or so he tries to convince himself.)

 

>>>>> 5

The fifth time Harry drops a box of Yorkshire into his cart after Louis left, it’s the first time after that fateful night. He’d meant to call Lucas. Their names were just so close together on the Favorites list in his contacts, and he clicks Louis instead of Lucas without thinking about it. The phone rings once, twice, thrice, and then a soft voice that is most definitely not Lucas’ comes floating through the line.

“Harry?”

Harry startles, expecting a low, smooth croon to greet him rather than the hesitant voice of someone he hasn’t talked to in over three months.

“Louis?”

“Yeah.”

“I… didn’t mean to call you, sorry. I’ll hang up if I’m bothering you.”

“No, it’s fine. How’ve you been?” Louis’ voice is still soft, like he’s savoring the words.

“I’ve been okay. You?”

“I’ve been better, I guess,” Louis hesitates for a moment, “Lonely.”

Harry bites his lip as he debates whether to tell Louis about Lucas or not. He decides to go for it. Might as well rip off the bandaid. “I’ve actually been not too lonely.”

Harry doesn’t know what to think Louis is thinking in the pause before he speaks, but it’s pretty much betrayed by the crack in his voice when he asks, “Oh, did you find someone else?”

Harry’s face softens at the memory of Lucas, who’s waiting back at home for him. “Yeah, yeah, his name’s Lucas. He’s absolutely wonderful. Really sweet, makes me laugh. He even makes meals for us sometimes. He’s fantastic.”

“I’m- I’m so happy for you, Harry. He sounds great, he really does.” Louis’ voice breaks more than he’s willing to admit, and he sounds like he’s going to cry, but Harry’s mouth doesn’t know when to stop.

“He is. He’s super handsome, and he’s got a personality of _gold._ He’s gonna get me a kitten soon. He likes to think he’s really secretive, but he really isn’t. It’s adorable. I love how he’s like, mostly nice, but sometimes gets super sassy, and he’s just _amazing_.”

“That’s so good, Harry, I’m happy for you.” Harry’s browsing the teas now, selecting his favorites off the shelf, so he doesn’t really notice how Louis sounds like he’s crying. He adds Lucas’ favorite brand of some floral, gross-tasting shit to the cart.

“Yeah, I mean, I feel like he and I connect so well? Like more than _we_ ever did?” Harry’s hand strays and he drops one more box of tea into the cart before he actually tunes back into the conversation. “Oh my god, Louis, I’m so sorry. I’ve been going on about me and Lucas, haven’t I? Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s- It’s fine, Harry. I’m really happy for you. Really happy. At least someone got something good out of us, yeah? Cause like, I’m definitely not.” Louis says quietly after a pause and a sniffle.

“Yeah. Uh, I gotta go, but we’ll talk again later?” Both of them have a feeling that this is probably the last time they’re going to talk directly, and they both know neither of them are going to ever have the guts to call the other. (maybe louis will, sometime down the road when he’s drunk and lonely and the contact names on his phone are blurring together. harry won’t answer and louis will leave a slurred, tear-drenched voicemail for harry to find in the morning.)

“Yeah, talk to you later. Goodbye, Harry.”

“Bye, Louis.”

The phone beeps in Harry’s ear and he pushes the cart to the checkout counter. The same checkout girl is there, and she glances at him with concern when he piles the contents of his cart onto the conveyor belt. Harry freezes when he sees the box of Yorkshire he dropped into his cart when he was talking to Louis. He drops it onto the end of the belt with a heavy sigh anyways. The checkout girl gives him a funny look as she rings everything up and bags it, but he ignores it and thanks her with a tiny smile on his way out.

>> 

“Destiny, was that the same guy?” The girl from the counter behind Destiny asks when they take a break.

“Yeah, it was. This is literally like the fifth time he’s bought a box of tea- Yorkshire, I’m almost certain- and checked it out at my counter. It’s so weird though, like the first time he came in, he wanted to glare the thing to death. The second time, he’s all distracted and shit, and he had that look that my brother has right before he’s got a date. Third time, he’s all cozy with this guy-”

The girl squeals. “Was he cute?”

“Yeah, but like, he was also really gay, so don’t even bother trying. Anyways, Yorkshire-buyer is all cozy with this guy and he’s happier than I’ve ever seen anyone in my sixteen years of life. _Then_ , you won’t believe this, but the next time he comes in, he’s got this look on his face, right, and he’s buying all the cliché breakup food. Ice cream, chocolate, some of that cheap liquor from the back, right, and all with _another fucking box of Yorkshire_. Now, he comes in and buys Yorkshire again, right, but he’s lost some of that happiness and he sighs like he’s given up. I don’t know what’s up with him.”

The other girl shrugs, “Strange.”

>> 

When Harry gets home, Lucas is still at work, but he should be home soon. As if he’s just jinxed it, Harry’s phone lights up with a text from Lucas.

_hi bb im going out for drinks with a couple of coworkers tonite so u can eat n sleep first… dont wait up for me luv u xx_

Harry sighs and contemplates his groceries. He ends up making just a simple pasta dish for himself and leaves a note on the fridge for Lucas to find.

As he gets ready for bed, Harry mulls over his purchases (and the fucking box of tea) and the checkout girl's glance. Was he really that obvious? Well, obviously he could be forgiven the one right after the second breakup, but what about the others? Did he really glow around Louis like he felt like he did that one week? _How many fucking boxes of Yorkshire had he bought?_

Harry doesn’t fall asleep for a long time, bouncing questions around his head.

(lucas still isn’t home by the time harry finally drifts off).

>> 

When Harry wakes up, it’s to a cold bed and a sticky note from Lucas.

_gm h, v sorry i had to get up for a early meeting luv u have a great day c u tonite :)_

Harry almost has to scrub a fist over his eyes when he realizes that this is what he left Louis both for and over. He left Louis for the same thing he left Louis over, his dedication to his work. Lucas is just as, if not more dedicated.

Harry gets up to make breakfast before he can start questioning his love for Lucas like he did with Louis. _Besides, Harry, you love Lucas more than you ever loved Louis, right?_ Right. He loves Lucas. He’s gonna put up with Lucas because he loves him.

…

(does he really though?)

 

>>>>> +1

Louis is alive, if not exactly thriving. He’d gone through a couple flings, only to give up and resign himself to a life of singleness. He’s content, if not exactly happy. There’s always going to be a little hollow in his chest suspiciously close to his heart, but no one has to know.

It’s a dull, rainy day when it comes.

_You are cordially invited to the wedding of Lucas Conelly and Harry Styles._

Louis doesn’t know what to think. He wants to cry, he wants to scream and sob and stomp around and trash his apartment, but he physically _can’t_. He _can’t_. He can’t bring any tears to his eyes, no matter how hard he tries, because there’s only a tiny sad pang in his chest when he remembers the night he and Harry spent planning out _their_ wedding.

That one little thought cracks open the dam he’s built to hold back the memories. Memories of green eyes and messy curls, of warm cuddles and sweet kisses, of Harry laughing and Harry cooking and Harry dancing and HarryHarry _Harry_. Now, there’s nothing holding back the tears. Huge, gasping sobs battle their way up his throat, making him choke on his tears and Louis _screams_ , the sound echoing through his empty, lonely flat. He curls into himself on his couch and cries and cries until all his tears have been wrung out of his heart and he’s left in a tiny, trembling ball. He wants someone to hug him and tell him that it’s okay, that everything is gonna be okay and Harry still loves him and- and…

there’s no one there to hear his pleas. There’s no one to give him a hug or whisper sweet nothings into his hair or to kiss away the tears.

(harry used to.)

Louis doesn’t end up going.

>> 

On his wedding day, Harry is happy, if not exactly ecstatic. He’s in his suit and it’s three minutes until he officially becomes Harry Conelly. Lucas is a fantastic man, and Harry’s happy to be with him. They’ll lead content, comfortable lives together. Harry doesn’t let himself think of sharp cheekbones, blue eyes, and feathery fringe, nope!

When Harry’s at the altar, he smiles at Lucas, dimples showing. Lucas smiles back.

Harry doesn’t see the one he really wants to see in the audience, and it hurts more than it should, considering he’s marrying his love today. Why pine over an ex?

(maybe because deep inside, he knows louis was his true soulmate)

Afterwards, when they’re headed home to pack before their honeymoon, Harry falls asleep on Lucas’ shoulder in the back of the limo.

<< 

_Harry’s back in Louis’ flat. They’re playing FIFA, and Louis is kicking Harry’s arse, 11-2._

_“Lou, c’mon, let me score!” Harry whines, draping his torso on Louis’ lap, covering Louis’ controller so he can’t see the buttons._

_“Why should I?”_

_“Becaauuuuuse. It’s only fair, this is my first time playing.”_

_“That doesn’t mean anything to me.” Louis smirks._

_“Louuuuuuu, I thought we were friends.”_

_“We are, though, aren’t we? We talked about it. We’re still boyfriends, as far as I’m concerned?”_

_“Yeah, yeah, just let me score!”_

_“Nope, sorry, kitten.”_

_Harry has to take a moment to compose himself after Louis calls him kitten, which, okay, that’s new. He pauses the game and stretches, doing a little shimmy when he catches Louis’ eyes roaming shamelessly over the sliver of exposed skin between his shirt and his sweats._

_“Want something to eat? I’m gonna grab a smoothie.” Harry calls over his shoulder as he heads into the kitchen._

_“Just a cup of tea, please.” Louis calls back, fiddling with the settings on his controller._

_Harry goes about making Louis’ tea first, starting up the kettle and tossing a bag of Yorkshire into Louis’ mug. (it’s matchymatchy with harry’s mug, a gift from louis’ mum). As the water boils, Harry grabs his smoothie from the fridge. When Louis’ tea is ready, he brings it into the living room and sets it down in front of Louis. Louis is watching him with an unbearably fond expression gracing his features._

_“Aw, thank you, kitten, I love you.”_

_Harry’s breath catches. “Lou?”_

_“Yeah, babe?” He sounds completely normal, but his eyes are glimmering with happiness after telling his baby “I love you.” for the very first time._

_“I… I love you too.”_

_Louis’ face splits into the brightest, most crinkly-eyed smiled Harry’s ever seen._

_“I love you.” Louis says it again, as if trying it out on his tongue and glowing even brighter when Harry blushes pink._

_“I loooove youuuuuuu!” Harry sings giddily, throwing himself into Louis’ arms after setting his smoothie down._

>> 

“Harry, we’re home.” Lucas is shaking Harry gently.

Harry startles awake. “Oh, what? Oh, sorry, Lu. I’m exhausted.”

“Aw, babe, we’ll have time to rest when we’re in Hawaii.”

Harry smiles and gets out, stumbling a little from sleepiness. Lucas is there to steady him.

“Hey, what’s that on the door?”

Harry goes forward to the door, and there’s a big yellow envelope on the door. It’s labeled _For Harry and Lucas Conelly._

(Harry _knows_ the handwriting, _knows_ the little line linking the two _R_ s, _knows_ the familiarly tiny hook at the _Y_. He ignores how the left bit of the _U_ in “Lucas” is rounded towards the right side like Louis almost wrote an _O_ instead of a _U._ )

He ignores the swooping feeling in his gut and opens the envelope. Inside the envelope is a bit of cash, a note, and a smaller envelope labelled simply _K._ Harry pockets the tiny envelope and turns to Lucas.

“Lu, we got cash. There’s a note.”

“Read it.”

“’Dear Harry and Lucas, my apologies for not being able to make it to your wedding. I wasn’t sure what to get you two, so here, have some cash! :) –Louis Tomlinson.’”

“Hm. Cool.” Lucas opens the door and holds it for Harry, who folds the note carefully and hands the money over to Lucas. “Let’s pack, and then we’ll get going to the airport.”

“Okay.”

>> 

Harry ducks into the bathroom under the guise of packing his hygiene items. He locks the door and tugs the small envelope out of his pocket. He unsticks the flap, careful not to rip the paper, and pulls out a necklace. It’s a tiny blue crystal bead strung on a simple, delicate silver chain. (It’s the exact color of Louis’ eyes, but Harry doesn’t think of that, no, not at all.) There’s a green sticky note in the envelope, and Harry pulls it out.

_for my kitten. x._

>> 

So the last time Harry will ever buy a box of Yorkshire is after the honeymoon. It’s always sitting in the back of his tea cabinet even though neither he nor Lucas drink it. Harry insists it’s for when they have guests over, nothing else.

(not for the memories that are tied to the box. not for piercing blue eyes, sharp cheekbones, or longlonglong eyelashes.)

(if that box is empty and contains a certain necklace and a sticky note, well, the only one who ever opens it is harry.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-fin.

 

 

_  
_

**Author's Note:**

> alrighty so that was hopefully not a bad read.... but my tumblr will be added when we're revealed so you can scream at me... also I just realized that this is the first fic without a mcd warning that I've posted... wtf @me  
> edit 6.7.16: [ my tumblr! ](https://smollest-louis.tumblr.com)
> 
> also also also i didn't know if i should have rated it as explicit as there is only one smut scene so i rated it mature... lemme know if i need to change that! also if anyone notices mistakes in grammar/punctuation/anything else, please leave a comment! :)
> 
> original prompt: "Why did you leave without saying goodbye?" Where Harry and Louis try to do Goodbye all over again. But this time right. A story with a somewhat Happy Ending.
> 
> HUGE THANKS to my beta Blue (link to be added w/ reveal) and J on tumblr for being the best and super supportive. LOVE YOU TWO AND THANK YOU FOR PUTTING UP WITH MY EMAILS AND MESSAGES AND DRAFTS AND TEARS! <3
> 
> edit 6.7.16: [ blue's tumblr ](https://iambluehead.tumblr.com) and [ J's tumblr ](https://paynner.tumblr.com)
> 
> edit 9.26.16: [ NEW TUMBLR JUST FOR FIC ](https://babylxxrry.tumblr.com)


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